


Tuck You Into My Skin

by MenacingPlatypus



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Light Choking, M/M, Religious Guilt, Shiny New Relationship, many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenacingPlatypus/pseuds/MenacingPlatypus
Summary: PWP, kind of? Light on the porn and the plot. Really just a snapshot of the struggles for Finan and Uhtred forging a new aspect of their relationship.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Tuck You Into My Skin

The noise of battle starts to fade around them and Uhtred raises a hand in thanks to Sihtric. Without the younger man’s help, the axe that lays beside him in a puddle of blood would have been buried in Uhtred’s face. Sihtric only grins and chases after the fleeing soldiers with the rest of Uhtred’s men. Glancing up the ruined Lundene street, Uhtred sees Finan a few houses down, face dark with rage, and stalking into one of the abandoned stone buildings. Frowning, Uhtred follows him, limping slightly from the wound to his knee.

Finan paces the decrepit ruin fitfully, looking up with that same anger in his eyes when Uhtred walks through the stone arch. In the aftermath of their successful attack, the city is quieting as the chaos moves away from the older part of the city. The sun is setting, and the shadows are long, casting Finan’s face in shadow, but his distress is clear in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. 

“Finan,” Uhtred starts, approaching him slowly, unsure of the cause of the Irishman’s distress, but wanting to bring Finan into the circle of his arms. His heart is still pounding from the rush of the assault and Uhtred’s blood surges to be close to Finan. 

“Do you ever fuckin’ think?” Finan explodes, whipping around to face Uhtred, stalking close enough for Uhtred to see the blood splattered on his skin in the dimming light. “Your skull may be thick, but it isn’t made of steel!”

Uhtred ducks his head. Jumping from the wall had been a gamble, but it had saved Rypere’s life and Sihtric saved Uhtred’s in return. It was the way of battle, but he imagines he must have looked reckless, perhaps even insanely so, to the protective Irishman. Finan may be tentative about the more intimate parts of this new relationship they are forging, but if possible, he has grown even more ferocious over Uhtred’s safety. The Dane likes to tease Finan, but it fills Uhtred’s chest with unrivalled affection and an equally ferocious desire to pull the other man into his body until there is no space left between them. 

He has been restraining that impulse however, for while it is clear Finan desires him, the Irishman’s ties to his conservative God have made the physical progress of their relationship painstakingly slow. Uhtred is content to move at a pace that suits Finan, but the urge to touch Finan and be touched by him drives Uhtred to distraction when they are alone together. He doesn’t want to believe it is a lack of trust that holds Finan back and for the ten thousandth time, Uhtred curses the Nailed God of this land, constantly dictating what men should do and the burden of guilt and shame that comes along with his rules.

Uhtred can only shrug and grin in response to Finan’s hurled questions, but this is the wrong response, obviously. Finan continues to rage, accusing Uhtred of recklessness and stupidity and a thousand other sins, and Uhtred is somewhat surprised by the strength of his ire. He cannot recall a time when the Irishman has been so furious with him. 

“Finan,” Uhtred starts, but Finan cuts him off with a sharp wave of his hand. 

“We cannot fight together any longer if I cannot trust you to have at least some fucking care for your life!” Uhtred begins to feel his own temper flaring in response. The adrenaline of battle hasn’t left him yet and his fists clench tightly. 

“We have fought dozens of battles together, Finan, and I am the same now as I have always been.”

“But  _ we _ are not the same,” Finan hisses through gritted teeth and Uhtred takes a deep breath, an irrational hurt blooming in his chest. 

“Ah, so you trust me less now that I want to put my mouth on your cock?” Uhtred snarls at him, defensive and hurt that Finan keeps drawing him in, only to push him away.

The brutally frank question flusters Finan completely and Uhtred is too busy trying to dissect the myriad of emotions racing over the Irishman’s face to see his fist coming. Uhtred curses loudly, bringing one hand to his nose and striking out at Finan with the other. For a moment they grapple angrily, but Uhtred’s injured leg cannot hold his weight and Finan gains the upper hand quickly, pinning Uhtred to the wall by his throat. 

Breathing heavily, face twisted, Finan stares hard at Uhtred as his fingers dig into the skin of the Dane’s neck. Uhtred breathes through his nose, tilting his chin up as best his can in challenge, eyes narrowed. The moment crawls by and through his fury, Uhtred can feel Finan’s body pressed against his in a dozen places. Ignoring the storm on Finan’s face, Uhtred doesn’t try to break the grip on his throat, but instead reaches for the Irishman’s sword belt, pulling roughly on the leather until it gives way and Finan’s weapons clatter to the stone floor. 

For a breath it looks as though Finan will protest, but he stays silent and intensely still, fingers tightening minutely against Uhtred’s neck as he swallows. The laces of Finan’s pants loosen easily and Uhtred can feel his hardness through the thin material. Wrapping a hand around Finan’s cock, Uhtred swipes his thumb over the already moist tip and Finan closes his eyes, breath rushing from his mouth.

“Look at me,” Uhtred growls low, his throat working against the steel of Finan’s hand. Obeying Uhtred’s command, Finan’s eyes still contain traces of his internal conflict and Uhtred squeezes him firmly, quickening his pace. 

“Uhtred,” Finan groans, a note of pleading buried within it. 

“Tell me to stop,” Uhtred pants, his other hand reaching up to hold onto the bicep of Finan’s arm outstretched towards him. Their eyes locked, Uhtred wills Finan to calm, to relax into him and move past the lingering shame. To trust him. An action that Finan had once described to Uhtred to be as easy as breathing. 

A crack appears in Finan’s eyes and he laughs, jagged and sudden and quiet, before leaning in and pressing his forehead to Uhtred’s shoulder. “For God’s sake, Uhtred.” Finan’s hand slackens and he slides it down to rest over Uhtred’s heart, fingernails digging into the leather. Uhtred moves his hand from Finan’s arm to the back of his neck and lays a cheek against his thick black hair. 

\--

Later, Uhtred is bathing to get rid of the blood and grime when he feels someone watching him. He turns and is pleased to see Finan on the bank eyeing him closely. Uhtred wades towards the bank, smiling slowly, until the water hits his waist. Finan’s face is serious, but there is heat in his gaze and Uhtred feels an answering pull in his gut. 

“Are you still angry with me?” He asks lightly, brushing his hands over top of the water in front of him. Finan watches their movement intently. 

“No,” the Irishman answers simply with the ghost of a smile. 

Uhtred grins back as he asks, “Then are you going to join me?” Finan glances up and down the bank, looking torn. 

“Alright,” he says finally, to Uhtred’s pleasant surprise, lowering his weapons to the ground before he pulls his tunic over his head. With a dark smirk he adds, “Anyone comes along, I’ll just lop their heads off.” Chuckling roughly, Uhtred watches quietly as Finan sheds his clothes. 

They will find their way together, of this, Uhtred is certain. 

**Author's Note:**

> A real short one off the unfinished pile. I always meant to expand it, add it in somewhere, but for now, the cheese stands alone. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies!


End file.
